Transformation
by Javanyet
Summary: Though Maura returns to Toronto and her life with Nick, she has unfinished business with LaCroix.
1. Chapter 1

By the time the taxi dropped Maura off at the loft she could practically taste Nick, could almost feel him in her hands. After mending things with her in Boston he'd spent the last week of his detective exchange with her at Anton's home, meeting her new friends and getting to know the woman she'd become during the nearly three months they'd been apart. Stronger, smarter, more secure than he'd ever known her, she was thoroughly intolerant of what she called his mania for his "ass-backward reliance on apology". She'd never been very happy with it, but now she was positively militant.

She'd come to accept the reasons why he'd left, but found it harder to forgive his instructions to his lawyer to make her his financial dependent. "You might as well have slapped me in the face, Bats, you know how I feel about living off of anyone. It was like you were trying to buy me off or something. It would save a whole lot of time," she told him when they were still setting their separation to rights, "if you'd think about how sorry you'd be _before_ you fuck up. Trying to clean up your mess with 'sorry', it's like using a paper towel on dry paint. It might make you feel like you're trying, but it doesn't accomplish _shit_. Maybe it's time to embrace your inner existential klutz, and work on some coordination between your intentions and your actions, you know, like the Tarot Magician says."

Nick had listened calmly, realizing she was a little bit over the top for the time being but completely willing to let her vent. He figured she'd earned it, besides he'd trade that any day for the sadness in her eyes that the new fire had replaced. It lit a fire in him as well, and his hunger for her leaned more for body than blood.

"Ma flamme," he'd growled softly one night as she sat astride him, the strength in his hands alone guiding their rhythm, and suddenly rolled her beneath him, enjoying her gasp of delight as he thrust deeper, "ma flamme doux," and as he as he'd learned to do before he'd left her he made love to her endlessly, for hours, because he could. He found he could control himself by thought and inner desire, never ending until he decided it was time, drawing the pleasure out for himself and repeating it over and over for her. When she became wild and desperate for him to finish he'd slow and calm her with soft kisses and quiet words, sometimes even sending her to sleep for a bit before waking her with more demanding caresses and movement. And he learned as well to save the sweet bite for the very end, when she was at her limit and he ready to give himself up completely, because the intensity of it could scarcely be described in so weak a word as 'pleasure'. The rarity of her blood increased tenfold any experience he'd had with any other, vampire or mortal, leaving him deaf and blind to everything but her heartbeat and the red flames behind his eyelids. His lust their first night together in Boston had consumed him so completely he drank far too much from her, frightening himself and weakening her for the entire following day. Rather than give in to his fears and withdraw entirely (which he would have done before), he resolved to be more careful, not to abandon every shred of sense to sensation. His ability to do so surprised them both.

"I was afraid you'd never touch me again," Maura confessed later.

"_That_ I don't think I could manage," Nick promised her with a suggestive smile.

He'd had to return to Toronto after that one week with her, absolutely out of reasons to stay now that the department exchange program was concluded. He hadn't dared to ask for even one more personal day from the captain, whose patience had worn threadbare after his prolonged absence. That last night together they'd spent talking, she of her plans to persuade Janette to dilute her eternal Goth with a bit of old fashioned rock. She was well-armed with copies of Anton's financial reports from Pulse to back her up. Nick was consumed with talk of the freedom LaCroix had promised, that while he would stay in Toronto he would cease his torment of Maura, agreeing instead to accept conditions as they were and style his interactions with Nick accordingly.

"You believe him?" She asked him for the hundredth time that since he'd found her. He'd explained things to her a hundred times as well, but she was having a hard time buying it. "It's not like he hasn't pretended to accept your direction in the past, only to pull that April Fool shit over and over."

"No, this time he's telling the truth. He's convinced that my life right now, and your place in it, is as much a part of me as my past. Maybe more so. So now he's also convinced that by accepting things as they are he isn't losing anything, except the trappings he was looking for. He knows his power over me is finished, and after a hundred years, I think he's just plain tired of the fight. He figures it's better to be civil than to be at daggers drawn forever. Who knows, he may even get to like you."

"Imagine that," Maura commented drily. "Well I'll settle for his grudging respect."

"You have that already."

She gave a surprised laugh. "You shitting me? He _respects_ me?"

"Grudgingly. LaCroix' major weakness, outside of always wanting his way, is his irresistible tendency to respect those who don't fear him."

Maura lay back on the sofa where they sat talking to lean under Nick's arm. "Wow, I guess I'm in rare company."

"Well you might actually be the _first_."

"Bullshit. He's over 2000 years old, I can't be the first to who was too crazy or stupid to cower in his shadow." In addition to everything else Maura was beginning to appreciate that she was only alive because LaCroix hadn't felt like killing her, not because he was put off by her bad attitude.

This time Nick laughed. "You're the first to have lived to brag about it, that much I know."

She shifted a little to look into his face. "Well it seems he had a mighty incentive to let me live. At least I kept telling him that, and it seemed to work. I found a unique position, with both him and Janette."

Nick shook his head. "Janette's different, Sweet, she's very fond of you. She sees what's special in you, or she'd never have hired you in the first place."

"So it looks like maybe we're all four slaves to being special. I mean LaCroix must have created hundreds, _thousands_, like himself but he's only hung onto you two. Must be at least related to the same reason you and Janette can't let go of each other, or really walk away from him, and I can't let go of you, or her, blah, blah, blah. Just one big, happy co-dependency."

Nick looked at her in quizzical amusement. "If you say so."

Now she hauled her two bags out of the trunk (Anton was sending the rest of her stuff along) and bounced to the door. Nick hadn't brought her keys to Boston, so she leaned on the bell and shouted, "Surprise, I'm early!" into the intercom. She was supposed to be arriving in another week but couldn't stand to be away from home, and him, any longer. When the elevator door slid open she was delighted to see him waiting inside. Flinging her bags to the floor, she tackled Nick around the neck.

"Hi honey, I'm home," she sang before grafting herself to his face, forcing him to stagger back and reach behind him for the buttons.

He pried his mouth away. "There's something I gotta tell you," but she cut him off with another kiss.

"Shut up. You talk too fucking much, you know that?" she muttered before snaking her tongue around his, hands burrowing inside his vest and tugging at his shirt tail. She intended to have him at least half undressed by the time they got up to the loft, and couldn't understand why he was wrestling her like a nervous virgin.

"Wanna play shy, huh, I like that in a man," and finally he gave in to her and wrapped her up tight in his arms, his kisses becoming more passionate as the elevator ground to a halt and they rolled back to pin each other in the corner.

"Hey let's do it right here, shut this thing off," but as she worked one hand from under his clothes to reach for the switch the elevator door slid open. Unfortunately both Nick and Maura were too preoccupied with consuming each other to notice before a second or two had passed.

"Whoa, somebody switch on the a/c, it's getting _hot_ in here!" Schanke announced. Maura detached and jumped away from Nick as if he'd been electrified.

"Huh?" Maura looked from Schanke to Nick, whose expression was a perfect mix of annoyance and sheepishness.

"Welcome home Maura. Hey, kicky hair."

"I tried to tell you," Nick began, cut off as Schanke interjected, "but I think she had _other things_ on her mind, right Maura?"

Maura picked up her bags and dragged them into the loft. "I didn't know you guys were having a meeting." Then she saw the boxes and suitcases, and shot Nick yet another puzzled look.

"Schank's been visiting for a few days while he and Myra work out some issues."

"The hell we are, I'm through with her! No more whining about 'you don't consider my feelings', no more complaints I don't pay attention. Nick and I have been batching it up."

"Batching it up," Maura muttered under her breath, fixing Nick with a questioning stare.

"Well mostly we've been working night and day on a case. Up with the moon, down with the sunrise, you know the routine when we're busy," Nick nattered on.

Maura just shook her head, eyes still on Nick. "So where did you hide the girls, huh?" This was for Schanke's benefit.

"Oh don't worry, your man here was a positive _monk_, and he's right we've been too busy to party as much as I'd like."

"As much as you'd _like_," she mused as, strolling to the kitchen, she noticed a case worth of empties of Heineken. "Looks like someone shoehorned in some festivity." She turned to look at the two of them, Schanke looking like a frat boy on spring break and Nick looking like, well, looking like he'd been trapped with a frat boy on spring break.

"Well if anyone could bust out the party boy in Nick, it would be you." Her voice was dry enough to crumble jello, but Schanke didn't seem to notice. "Now if you two 'batches' don't mind, I am beat. It has been a _long_ day and I just want to unpack and go to bed. Don't let me keep you from your 'guy stuff'." Nick was half a step behind her as she turned to go upstairs.

"Oh that's okay, you two, don't mind _ME_," Schanke leered, "I'll just put on the stereo headphones and mind my own business."

Maura rolled her eyes at him as she passed, lugging the bags that Nick hadn't the presence of mind to pick up. "How _did_ Myra ever let you go?" She got upstairs as fast as she could manage, leaving Nick behind to glare at Schanke.

"_Schanke_," he began, but gave up and followed after Maura with a disgusted look.

"I won't disturb you," Schanke sang after Nick, stopping him in his tracks.

"Not. Another. Word." His voice was ice. He didn't bother to wait for the reaction but stopped outside the closed door to the bedroom. Feeling absurd, he tapped it lightly and went in. Before he could speak or even take a step toward her, Maura whirled on him in a fury born of sleep deprivation and surprise.

"Just what the fuck is going _on _here? Do we have a roommate now? Your clueless partner leaves his wife, which by the way I don't believe for a _minute_ Myra didn't throw his sorry ass _out_, and you ask him to move in just like that? You couldn't call me in Boston to warn me?" Her attempt at a stage whisper made her sound like a hissing viper, and her puffy eyes enhanced the image.

Nick gestured lamely. "I thought he'd be gone by the time you were supposed to get back, I thought he'd be gone by _NOW_. And I didn't 'invite' him, he just showed up at four in the morning three days ago, with nowhere to go." His role as victim-of-circumstance managed to piss her off more.

"I can think of a few places," she grumbled as she turned to put more clothes away, then whipped around again. "So he just 'showed up' and you let him _stay_? Not for one night, not for two nights, but for who knows how long?" She threw up her hands in exasperation. "Holy fucking mother of hell, I've hooked up with the only vampire in existence who has limitless powers but _no balls_!"

"You found 'em just fine a few minutes ago," Nick reminded her with a tight smirk. His patience, worn paper-thin, was at the tearing point. He followed Maura step for step as she slapped her folded things into drawers and flung them onto hangers. "You think this has been a picnic for me? Do you _know _how he starts his day? Talking, talking, _TALKING_. And _more _talking. And he _cooks _constantly, and suggests rearranging the _furniture_, and..." he sputtered to a stop, then continued, "'Roommate'? He's more like a deranged _housewife_, and complains if I don't 'appreciate' it." He lowered his voice even more and made an "I am dead serious" face, assuring Maura with grim certainty, "If you hadn't come home tonight he might have been found floating in the harbor by tomorrow, but believe me I would have strangled him not drained him. I don't think I could stomach more bachelor Schanke than I have already." He stopped still in the middle of the room, looking entirely mortal and entirely at the end of his rope. "I wish I could love the irony; I'm the vampire, and Schanke's bleeding _me_ dry."

In spite of her frustration Maura couldn't contain a laugh, though she managed to keep it quiet. Though Nick woke in much better humor than she did, their 'morning' habits were harmoniously non-verbal. They eased into the day in the welcome quiet of each other's company, and sometimes the first complete sentences weren't spoken for an hour or more. "Poor Bats," she shook her head as he shuffled miserably to stand face to face with her.

"In the past three days I missed you more than I did for the past three _months. _You can thank Schanke for reminding me what I'd be without you."

"Or _with_ him."

Nick shuddered in horror. "Don't even joke about that." Finally he reached his arms around her, kissed her gently. "You're right, Sweet, I should have called to warn you. But we really have been flat-out with this case, some dock worker who may have been pushed off the scaffolding at the waterfront. Other than that all my energy has been focused on not killing my partner." Maura answered him with another lingering kiss, stroking fingers through his hair.

"I'm sorry I was such a bitch. I just had plans, you know, involving you, and me, and the rug in front of the fireplace,"

"And now you want to throw me in, I'll bet."

"Uh-uh. Not until I've had my way with you, at least." Now she hugged closer and laid her face against his neck. "Mmm, we have so much shit to catch up on."

"Such a way with words…"

She couldn't see him smiling, and expected another lecture on foul language. "For a seasoned debaucher you are _such_ a prude."

"I've always found actions more eloquent than words," His hands wandered over her back and hips, down her ass and back up her sides as he tilted his head to catch her mouth again. After a moment or two she backed away.

"Unpack," she insisted as if to remind herself. Nick helped her put the rest of her things away.

"What did you do with all those new things you got?" he wanted to know.

"Anton's sending them on," she assured him. "I'm hoping to be able to wear them at Raven, if I can convince Janette to rock out a little more. Maybe we can start with a Rock at the Raven night or something. I know Derek and the guys would go for it, they get a little tired of all the moody 'dark side' dungeon bunny shit."

"Well even if they didn't, feel free to wear what you like when you're with me..." He'd found her "anti-Goth" outfits of tight blue jeans and deep-cut sparkly shirts and pullovers much to his liking.

"Yeah sure, I'll play dress up for you, if you promise to do that working stiff thing for me. No pun intended."

He raised an eyebrow. "I knew there was a reason I saved that stuff."

She pulled an emerald green silk nightgown from the bottom of the carry on bag she'd dumped in the bathroom. "Be right out," she called to Nick as she slipped it on. It flowed like water off her shoulders to full long sleeves, low cut fitted bodice and bias skirt that swept the floor. God, she looked good in it she had to admit, and swept back into the bedroom where Nick had finished putting her empty bags in the closet. When he turned to her his jaw (and fangs) dropped, and his eyes flashed gold.

"Shit," he growled.

"Mon dieu," she gasped, raising her hands in shock and mimicking the way he often teased her, "he's talking dirty!" She slunk closer, "I like that in the undead..."

"Viability challenged," he corrected as he swept her into his arms and, nose to nose, dipped her nearly to the floor. "You look good enough to bite."

"They didn't have one in flannel," she laughed as she hung on (as if he'd drop her).

"Mrrr, lucky me," he ran his face over her neck, shoulders, and down between her breasts. When he set her on her feet again he could see the circles under her bloodshot eyes.

"Ma pauvre doucette, you're exhausted."

She sighed. "Yeah, totally. All that heat I generated in the lift seems to have gone with the wind. I'm too burnt to burn."

Nick gave her a hug before turning down the bed. "That's okay, Sweet, we have all the time in the world to scorch the sheets. Preferably _without_ a houseguest listening for things to go bump in the night." When she'd climbed into bed Maura was nearly overcome by the familiar sensation of the silk sheets, the sight of Nick dimming the lights and lighting the candle before he went to his dressing room to change. He returned wearing only silk pajama bottoms as Maura regarded him with wide eyes.

"I thought I'd never have this again. I thought you were gone from my life."

He slid in next to her and leaned on an elbow to offer a warm, reassuring smile. She shut her eyes to hear his voice better, and felt light fingers trace her eyelids. "No such luck, mortal. You're stuck with me for good."

Her eyes snapped open and she surrounded him in a rush, pressing her face tightly into his shoulder and holding on hard. His smooth warm skin against her cheek made her want to cry and laugh at the same time. "Promise?"

"Oh, yes."

"Okay then." She released her stranglehold on him. "I'm _so__completely fried_," she groaned and settled on her side, head resting back on Nick's shoulder. "Wake me up in two weeks." She felt him kiss her head.

"I'll set my watch." As he spooned her back against him he felt strangely brotherly to her, and she understood at that moment the complex connection between him and Janette, sibling and lover and best friend. So very connected, it was impossible to label or define. "I'm glad you came home," he whispered, "I was so afraid you wouldn't."

"I love you, Nick. I never stopped, not for a second, even when I thought I'd left here forever. You must know I don't have a choice, but even if I did I'd still choose here and now and you."

"It's better than I deserve." He was silent for a moment and then she felt his lips burrowing through her hair until they could touch her neck in a gentle kiss. "Welcome home, my best beloved doucette."


	2. Chapter 2

Maura rolled over, reached out and found herself alone. "Nick?" she called softly to the dark, not quite awake but alarmed nonetheless. The memory of calling his name so many half-waking nights in recent months was still painfully fresh.

"Right here, Sweet." Then she saw him, sitting up in the velvet armchair near the bed, his outline in shadow and the light of the candle where it touched him burnishing his skin a soft gold.

"What's wrong?" She was sleepy, disoriented, and lay on her side peering at him from her pillow.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep."

"Come back to bed."

"Not just yet."

She was falling asleep but still puzzled. "But why not?"

He was smiling a sad smile. "I just want to look at you for a bit. I need to see you there where you belong. I forgot what it felt like to know you'll be there when I wake up. After all I've nearly lost, it feels good just to watch you sleep and know you're back home again."

"Mmm, okay," she settled deeply into the pillow and covers. "But can't you look at me in the morning? I'll sleep better if you're with me."

Suddenly he was there, arms around her, cradling her against him, all the comfort she'd ever been able to imagine.

"That's better," she murmured. "This feels like home."

Nick woke around noon. Maura was so deeply asleep her breathing didn't even alter as Nick gently disengaged himself and slid out of bed, tucking the covers around her before he dragged on his kimono and steeled himself for another Schanke Morning. To his complete surprise there was coffee waiting (for Maura) and a basket of fruit, but no Schanke. His things were neatly packed and stacked in the corner by the elevator door. There was a note left on the dining room table.

"Partner," it read, "tell Maura I'm sorry I busted up her homecoming. After all you two went through to put things back together it feels pretty shabby for me to give up so easy. I'm at my house; if Myra doesn't kill me I'll be back for my stuff later. Thanks for everything." At the bottom was a ps written more hastily, "I'll call first." Smiling, Nick padded back upstairs to snuggle in with Maura until she woke enough to enjoy the coming-home present he was forced to forego the night before: himself. When an hour had gone by, he nudged Maura awake with kisses and caresses that were greeted with sleepy protests.

"Go 'way, Bats, you got the rest of my life to get laid."

"That's not what I'm after. Yet." He covered her face with kisses and disappeared. Maura rolled onto her face again and was asleep in seconds.

Half an hour later Nick reappeared with a carafe of coffee, a warmed mug, and a bowl of freshly made peaches, yoghurt, and granola on a silver tray. The aroma reached Maura where she lazed not-quite-asleep, and she cracked an eye as he sat down on the bed.

"Rise and whine, Sweet. And welcome home."

"Oh wow..." she struggled upright to lean back against the pillows. "This is all for me?"

"Well not quite," he reached behind him and magically presented a single red rose.

"La Vie Sans Fin?" she asked.

"No. This one will die quite soon, I'm afraid," he regarded it sadly, then smiled into her eyes. "But I'll be here to replace it with another," he kissed her pillow-creased cheek, "and another," and her mouth "and another. As many as you want."

Maura squirmed a little. "Jeez, Bats, you're not going all Byron on me, are you?" But she took the rose and returned his kisses.

He remained leaned forward with a stubborn grin. "Only the good parts. It's high time you were properly appreciated."

She swilled a good dose of the coffee. "Not that this isn't great, but how about coffee in bed, and a 48-hour warning when you're about to go off on another self-redemption crusade? That's really all I need."

Nick's expression lost its humor. "Well it's not all I need. I know I can't make up to you what I screwed up since we met. But I can at least try to make you feel special right now."

Her brow knit. How could she make him understand how unimportant the trappings were to her, without hurting his feelings? She fingered the rose; very sweet, but not necessary, and breakfast, wow nobody in her life had done that, but he just didn't have to... "I don't need to feel 'special'. Shit, being 'special' has fucked me up good, all my life. Besides, you know how I hate being fussed over. Can't we just try to be _normal? _Normal being relative, of course." She dug into the fruit and yoghurt. "Nick, this is brilliant, who knew someone who can't eat could be so good in the kitchen?" He looked a little relieved as he realized that she could be distracted by the small pleasures he was determined to provide, things they'd both overlooked in their struggle to put something together between two hunted lives.

"Let me treat you nice my way, okay?" he coaxed her with another kiss. "I can do Byron, but I also come from times when the little things could be a big deal. Not all jewels and bowers of flowers, I promise."

Maura pouted. "No jewels? I'm _so_ outta here!"

"Will you please take me seriously for once?" He was so sincerely determined she had to stop laughing and touch his face.

"Bats, Nicolas, you are stuck with a pragmatist. Your lousy luck. But I promise I will accept everything you do for me as a sweet surprise, okay, and I'll try _really_ hard to control my practical streak. I've told you that all the warm fuzzies have been slapped outta me, it's just the way it is."

She'd finished with breakfast, so he moved the tray to the floor and took her in his arms. "Forgive me if I insist on ignoring that." He smoothed her hair back, stroked her face over and over. "I'm so glad you came home, I don't know what I would have done if you didn't." He knew he was repeating himself but he couldn't seem to stop yet.

"Me neither. All the time I was so pissed off and hurt and hating you, all I wanted was you to come and take me home. Yeah, I wanted to pound on you and scream at you, but I just wanted to come _home_ after all that was done. I wanted to get the ugly shit over with and just come _home_."

What followed for the next two days surprised Maura. She had expected nonstop lovemaking, wearing each other out (though wearing Nick out was a whole lot harder than vice versa), every pent-up hormone to come rushing forth to burn the place down. What she got was coffee in bed, Yeats and Dickinson read aloud, long walks in the park in the moonlight. And kisses, so many kisses she was lost in them, bathed in them, sweet ones, hot ones, soft and hard and coaxing and demanding. He held her on the sofa the second night and they made out like teenagers, pausing only to light the candles.

"Jesus, Nick, how long can you keep this up?" she asked him when he brought her a bowl of honey, peaches, and yoghurt before bed.

"How long have you got? My calendar's free for the next, oh, several hundred years."

"You're gonna make me fat," she observed as she scraped the bowl clean. He took it from her then, leaned in for the millionth gentle kiss since that morning, she figured.

"I'm gonna make you happy."

"I'm already happy. You're gonna make me _euphoric_."

"That's okay, I'll drive," he tossed off as he left for the kitchen.

By the time Maura returned to work on the third day, she was ready for a little fresh air and different faces, though she was more disgustingly content than she could ever have dreamt of being. All she did was take, take, take, every gesture and touch, every word and kiss and oh-my-god he did make love to her until she thought she'd die. It was all a massive coming-home present, and she accepted it all enthusiastically in spite of her early protests. She'd told herself that she needed to let Nick feel like he was making it up to her, but the fact was she was positively wallowing in his attentions as something she'd never had before.

"Bienvenue encore cherie," Janette greeted her warmly with a kiss on each cheek. "I told you we'd meet again."

"So... you didn't replace me or anything, did you?"

Janette made a face, not responding to the fishing expedition. "Don't think I didn't try. But the customers were terrified of MIklos unless he was behind the bar, and Vachon, well..."

Maura laughed. "Yeah, well." Vachon was simply too sweet and sociable to be seen as an authority figure. "So does this mean you're ready for someone else to do the dirty work?"

"As only you can do, cherie," she smiled. "When would you like to start?"

"How about tonight?"

Janette looked surprised. "But I thought perhaps you and Nicolas would want to... 'catch up'?"

Maura's eyebrows rose. "Sister, if I get any more caught up I may be doing this job from a wheelchair." Both women, mortal and vampire, laughed wickedly.

"Yes, I seem to remember Nicolas does work up a certain, ah, _momentum_."

Their shared sexual knowledge of Nick had never been a source of awkwardness for either of them, even in the days when he alternated between feeding on Maura and making full-bore love with Janette. Neither questioned it, it was as if they each were referring to different men. And, in a way, they were.

God, it felt good to be back, she thought for the bazillionth time as she cruised the floor that night. It was true that leaving here, both the club and the Toronto Community, had been just as hard as losing Nick. The regulars, mortal and im, welcomed her back and those unfamiliar with the saga accepted without question her bullshit about an extended vacation in the States. At about 10:30, the room well under control, she joined Janette at her table.

"So, cherie, are you finding it difficult leaving the spotlight?" Janette teased.

"Not at all. At least now I'll get to dance once in awhile. Really, I missed this kind of work. And there were times in Boston when there was trouble on the floor I nearly had to be restrained from jumping off the stage to intervene."

"I fear passive observation will never be your strong suit."

They watched the crowd for a bit, and finally Maura worked up the nerve to ask what she'd been wondering since her return.

"Where is LaCroix now? Nick said he wouldn't be leaving the city, but didn't say what his plans are except to hang around until he gets bored. Which in his lifetime could be two weeks, or two centuries."

"He has become a rather surprising success on the radio, CERK. One of those phone-in shows, but of course LaCroix puts a different twist on it. His name is The Night Crawler."

Maura would have laughed, but it sounded way too accurate a name to be humorous. Over her next two nights off (when Nick had to work) she tuned in at home. Each night had a "topic", and each caller found him or herself a willing audience for LaCroix's dark approximation of philosophy. She hated to admit it, but no matter what he was actually getting out of it (at the very least a feeling of immortal superiority, she was certain) the show had a certain bizarre attraction. In his bleak witty way LaCroix seemed to read pretty deeply into what was often the usual life-and-relationship drivel, and no doubt 2000 years of experience gave him the unique perspective that often rendered the callers silent as they absorbed his insight. She'd expected something a bit more satirical from him, or even some dark persuasion to get into worse troubles than his listeners already fancied they had. Her surprise at her wrong expectations was compounded by the certainty, after the second night, that he was actually using it as some kind of therapy of his own. Well therapy was probably too strong and constructive a word; perhaps elegant venting of his own issues. Whatever it was, it certainly drew nonstop attention during his three hours on the air. That anyone could host a three-hour phone in show without it descending into utter nonsense or nonstop raving loonies impressed Maura mightily. LaCroix was nothing if not a master manipulator, and he herded his audience with stunning expertise.

She stood in a shadowed corner, watching in fascination as LaCroix addressed the microphone as if it were a living thing, as if the caller sat there in front of him. Tonight's topic was transformation… what is sufficient to entirely change our substance and direction? It was as if he knew she'd be there… or perhaps it's what drew her. After work she caught a cab, having told Nick she was staying very late to help Vachon with the wine inventory. Maybe she'd come clean later, maybe LaCroix would rat her out, but stacked up against some of Nick's sins of omission this one was strictly bush league. She'd arrived ten minutes before the show would conclude.

"I was wrong about you, LaCroix. You're no antique, you know exactly how to make the most of this city and time. I stand corrected."

He appeared not at all surprised to see her. "I do hope you haven't come to gloat, doucette, the shrewd recognition of reality is never a defeat. Or have you missed our little talks so much you've come for a visit? Do come in. I won't bite, Nicholas would disapprove. And I daresay you'd be more trouble than the pleasure would be worth."

For some reason she didn't mind his use of Nick's affectionate nickname. The lower-case d was clearly audible to them both. She entered the on-air studio and sat in the interview chair across the console from LaCroix.

"You'll never believe we were never at war, will you LaCroix? I never wanted what you had, I don't want it now. In fact you've gained more from this than you've lost."

LaCroix leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin. "I haven't lost a son, but I've gained a… what?"

"How about a truce?"

His mouth gathered in distaste. "That sounds so final. A standoff, perhaps… that has a bit of the more accurate mobius strip aspect , don't you agree?"

Maura shook her head with a laugh. "I'll leave the words to you, you've had 2000 years to perfect them. But no, I'm not here to gloat, in any case. I think I just wanted to hear it from you."

Now he returned upright. "What? That I'm not simply retiring to regroup and refine my strategy? Surely Nicholas must have told you about our agreement."

"I want to hear it from you. Nick sometimes has the habit of hearing what he wants to hear."

This elicited a smile from LaCroix that was very nearly genuine. "Nicholas has always been so adept at hiding from himself… how do his illusions survive your scrutiny, I wonder?"

"Kicking and screaming. The ones that are left anyway. Quit hedging. Tell me, just once, tell me what you've decided to do. Don't ask me why, but I'll believe you."

"You know why. I can do whatever I like where you're concerned. Why bother to lie?" She sat patiently, silently, waiting out his display. "Oh very well, I can see you're not in any high intellectual mood tonight. In simple words, I cut my losses where Nicholas is concerned. Nothing I take away from him will alter his grip on this existence, nothing I offer will induce him to move on. After awhile, even I can be bored with trying. So you may have your little life with your flawed hero. When you are dust Nicholas and I will still be bound by blood. Even he cannot deny it."

"You mean an immortal can afford to be patient?"

He laughed richly, rocking his seat back and forth. "My dear, we are speaking of perhaps fifty years. For me, that is barely a distraction."

She knew he wasn't posturing, and it annoyed the hell out of her. "Then why the fuck," and she ignored his disapproving expression at the word, "were you so intent on making life hell? If it's all just a day at the zoo to you, why did you try so hard to ruin it all for me, for Nick?"

He shrugged, and she could have uttered his response in unison with him, "Because I can. But now I have an entire city to play with," he indicated the microphone, "and frankly I have you to thank for it. If you hadn't inspired Nicholas to such… obstinacy, I would never have discovered the joy of counseling mortals in distress."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Maura muttered.

He leaned across the console, looking for all the world like a generous neighbor. "Would you care to have use of some of my collected words? Your vocabulary seems to lack variety."

A standoff. Not the same as surrender or even a truce, but Maura figured in immortal terms it was as good as it was gonna get.


End file.
